Asilo de tu Corazon
by respektor
Summary: Isabella Swan has been a vampire for just over eighty years. She moves to Forks, Washington and is greeted by an unlikely surprise. A surprise that could mean the difference between life and death…
1. Life Like Weeds

**AN**: Right. This is my new story; I have simply fallen in love with alternate universes. Let it be understood that I have NO intention of stopping my other story…it is simply on hiatus until May 31 (last day of school! Wooo!). Drop a review, flame, etc, if you will. Oh, and all titles of chapters are song titles which I believe (might) express feelings from said chapter. This chapter (the rest will be longer, I promise) is titled after a song by Modest Mouse. Anyways, on with the story!

**Disclaimer**: If I owned Edward, I wouldn't be sharing him.

**Chapter One:**

It was a typical day in Forks, Washington: rainy. But, really, it wasn't surprising. What else could one expect from one of the rainiest cities in the United States? Truth be told, I like the rain, the muck, the gloom of it all. Of course, the sparse days of sunshine and warmth are nice; I always enjoy the chance to bask in the rarely seen sun.

I sighed, though. Another day to serve in the hell commonly referred to as Forks High. I wondered what it would be like to be human. What a meaningless existence it must be; to get up, go to school, think the petty thoughts that humans were sure to think, and do it all again the next day. It made me glad to be super-human. Sub-human. Either way, extremely, radically, un-human.

I lived in a small house in the heart of Forks with Eileen MacMourrough. She was changed during Strongbow's time; apparently, she was some sort of relation to Aoife, Strongbow's wife. We had met in 1918 in Chicago. She was working as a nurse, and I was occupied with trying to keep myself alive. When I was too far gone to come back, she saved me, and we have traveled around ever since.

Eileen was in the kitchen, slumped over the kitchen table. "Another day," she groaned. "Another day of prissy old women with their guilty vampire love stories. Undereducated children reading cheap books. Good God, I don't think I can do this for much longer."

I kissed her head and headed to my car. "Me neither, Eileen." Eileen works at the Forks library, a job which, I gather, she did not esteem to greatly. I sped off to school, thinking to myself that there were only 67 days of school left until the glorious, wondrous summer break was launched upon the student population.

**AN#**: I forgot to tell you that everything will all be explained shortly, just in case you're wondering.


	2. Can't Lose What You Never Had

**AN: **I was so excited, I had to write this chapter. Enjoy the creativity while it lasts. Thanks to all my lovely reviewers. Umm…I think that's really all I have to say.

**Disclaimer**: If I owned Edward, I wouldn't be sharing him with you like this.

**Chapter 2:**

In 100 years of this life, I'd become strangely cynical. Humans became so utterly predictable. I longed for a change; I was becoming reckless. Trust me, when you're a vampire, reckless is never good.

I squealed into the vacant parking lot. I cursed; I'd left too soon. Now, I had to sit idly in the car, waiting for more students to start trickling in to the lot. I began to reminisce on my old life, rather missing it. Life had changed greatly since 1918. I'd tried so hard to block out the memories of my human life. I also failed miserably at that task.

My father, the Chief Superintendent of the Chicago Police Force; my mother, the gentle yet vivacious woman of English breeding; my unborn sibling, taken with the rest of my family by the flu.

The flu. Over 50 million dead. My friends, my family, my _life_. All were taken, and held in the firm grasp of the devil himself. At times, I hated Eileen for having saved me. I would rather have died with those who mattered to me; I thought I had nothing left to live for.

It was, I believe, 1927 when I started to finally cheer up. Things were _definitely_ looking up then. No more rigidity in society or constricting clothes; it was the jazz age. Long nights, dramatic make-up, cheerful music, fast cars…

It was then that I realized something. I had been alive since 1902, but had only been living since 1918. I lived when I died. I found a purpose in life, a reason to keep going. But, now, I have lapsed into depression again.

I have no mate, no love to share thoughts or feelings with. I just want to lie down, close my eyes, and sleep. That, of course, is an unattainable fantasy. I looked at the clock in the car, its digital figures spelling my doom: 7:18. Twelve more minutes until Hell officially began. I lay back and, against my will, remembered:

_June 2, 1918_

"_Edward," I began, prodding an invisible point on my lap, shielding my eyes from his intense green ones, "you aren't really joining, are you?" It was early June. We were at a small gathering, celebrating the capture and trial, which my father and Edward's father were both involved in, of a dangerous criminal. _

"_Bella." We sat by ourselves, on a settee in our drawing room, away from the rest of the party, which still mingled despite the late hour. "I would be ashamed to not go. I have to do this." He grasped my hands in his, and I was astonished by the warmth. He looked at me, his eyes appealing to my patriotic soul, urging for my approval._

"_They say the war is almost over; that it can't go on for much longer." I sounded hopeful, attempting, in vain, I knew, to discourage Edward from joining the military. He looked pained. "I certainly hope they can wait until I get over there to end it."_

_I damned the Germans, the Austrian-Hungarians, and I damned the Ottoman Empire. I looked about the room. It was tastefully arranged; after all, Edward's mother had impeccable taste. Wallpaper covered the walls, delicate floral designs dotted the paper. Similarly colored motifs covered the furniture of the room. Everything was cheered by vases of flowers set artfully around the homey room. _

_But what did any of it matter? Edward was leaving. I knew that. Wild horses couldn't have stopped him from joining this war. A 'doughboy'. The killer? If he died over the sea, searching for glory and honor, he would never know that I loved him. Not as the friend or the brother our parents perhaps envisioned our attachment as, but a true love. _

_I sighed, jerking myself from my glum thoughts. "Do try and keep yourself from being killed. For m-" He looked at me expectantly. "For your parent's sake. For…for me, Edward." He opened his mouth to respond, but never got the chance. _

"_Isabella?" My mother's voice sounded shrilly above the dull roar of the party. "We're leaving now, dear, come along." I stood quickly, smoothing my skirt. _

"_Goodbye, Edward." He looked up at me imploringly._

"_Goodbye, Isabella…I'm sorry, too." _

_That was the last time I saw Edward Masen._


	3. New Born

**Authors Note:** Hey there, again. This has GOT to be a record with chapter posting. (For me, anyway) Oh, and I figured out that my summer schedule is just as hectic as my school year schedule. Summer gym from 8-11, two-a-day practices for soccer, orchestra practices, etc. I'll try to post like mad, though!

**Disclaimer**: If I owned Edward, I wouldn't be sharing him with you.

**Chapter 3:**

I was pulled, rather unceremoniously, from my reverie by a fevered tapping on my car window. I looked up and forcibly suppressed a groan. Mike Newton. What a drag.

"Hey, Bella," he opened the car door. At least he was a gentleman.

"Hey," I responded lethargically.

"Have you heard about the new kids? The Cullens." He just about whispered the name in awe.

"No." I said shortly, slinging my bag over my shoulder and heading to a squat red building.

"Well," he started, but was cut off by a car squealing to a stop in the far corner of the parking lot. "Bella! It must be them!" He grabbed my arm. I quickly wriggled out of his grasp.

"Mike." I faced him squarely. "I refuse to go and gape at those poor children like they're caged animals." I turned quickly and strutted away. He, of course, followed. It was going to be another long day.

The periods before lunch passed uneventfully enough: there was chatter about how incredibly good looking the new kids were, the teachers droned on about some useless information, and I sat in a room full of humans, trying to not focus on my unquenched thirst.

The monotony of the day took a sudden and unexpected turn. I was early to lunch; few people were in the cafeteria.

I walked in, vaguely searching for these 'incredibly gorgeous' beings. And that was when it hit me. The scent, the sweet musky scent of vampires, accosted my nostrils. My eyes darted around the room, searching for an unfamiliar face. I locked eyes with what I assumed was a Cullen. She started back, surprised, her tawny eyes glinting. I sped over to her. She was flanked on one side by a stunning blonde, and on the other side by another stunning blonde, this one male.

I spoke quickly, quietly, in a voice no human could understand. "The Cullens, I presume." The girl in the center nodded. "I'm Alice. Rosalie," she gestured, "and Jasper." We all stared intently, the Cullens appraising me and I them.

"Your heart isn't beating." Alice smiled at my obvious statement.

"Neither is yours." This was a new voice. A voice like the softest velvet and sweetest song. A voice with which I was acquainted quite well.

Eileen says the human memory is short. She told me to record my memories, for, soon, I would not remember them. I remembered this voice perfectly. How often had it comforted me when I was upset, read to me from the newspaper, and sung a new song to me? I turned. If I were human, I would most certainly have fainted. Edward Mason stood facing me, complete, unadulterated shock and recognition registering in his perfect face.

_In Edward's Viewpoint:_

It is fortunate for me that my heart stopped beating a long time ago. Had it not, I would surely have just had heart failure.

Isabella Swan. I let the name roll over my tongue, cherishing the moment. She had been beautiful as a human. As a vampire, she had no rival; she was flawless. Her wild hair hung to the middle of her back. She had always joked that there was no taming of 'the beast', though I had always found her hair beautiful and vivacious, just like her.

The last time I had seen Isabella was in Chicago, June 4, 1918. She was in the hospital, lying fevered and delirious, coughing up the blood that threatened to fill her lungs.

The illness had already claimed both of her parents; I was all she had left. I had knelt between the cots in the overcrowded ward, wishing and praying for her to miraculously recover.

I had come back the next morning, as I had promised, but she was gone. A nurse informed me that patients were only moved to go to the crematory.

My family contracted the sickness a few days later.

I had spent my life, or, my death, rather, mourning the loss of Isabella Swan. And, now, here she was, open-mouthed, staring.

"Bella," I whispered. She fell into my arms. We stood in the embrace, letting our disbelief fade. Alice coughed gently.

"Um. Perhaps it would be best to take this somewhere a little more private," she hinted. I looked up. She was right. The cafeteria was staring openly at our little display. "Come." I took Bella by the arm, she staring and I grinning like a fool.

We dodged teachers and janitors successfully and were soon seated in my Volvo. The engine roared to life, and Forks High gradually shrunk into the background.


	4. Sweet Rough Man

**Author's Note**: I never realized how SHORT my previous chapters were. Sorry about that. This one is considerably longer. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer**: If I owned Edward, I wouldn't be sharing.

We pulled over to the side of the highway. Cars whizzed past us, shaking the car with the speed of the wind. I stared forward, fidgeting with my hands, while rain pelted the windshield. I couldn't believe he was here. Alive. My angel. I could feel his gaze on my face, relearning each feature.

"Bella." He cleared his throat. This was a very awkward meeting; neither was sure where exactly we stood. "What have you been doing with yourself? Why-why, I don't mean to sound coarse, but why aren't you dead?" He stared at me, and I returned the look.

"It's really quite obvious why I'm not dead. A nurse was more than she seemed. She needed companionship, and we'd become close during my long stay. I don't think it really pained her to do it. She's always enjoyed this life." He studied my face; it seemed to be all he was capable of.

"And you? Do you enjoy this life?" He waited for my answer. I decided to wear my cold, un-beating heart on my sleeve.

"I think I might enjoy it more…now." I looked down again. I anticipated the blood to come rushing to my face, but it never came; I was still getting used to that. I looked tentatively up. His face had softened; he looked on the verge of saying something.

"There's so much to talk about, to catch up on. Let's go back to my house. You can meet the rest of the family." The rest…how many more were there?

So many emotions erupted inside of me; I smashed them down, forcefully. The last thing I needed to do was to make a fool of myself by throwing myself upon Edward.

We passed the small road on which Eileen and I lived. We heated towards the outermost part of the town, past the sporadically built houses.

We turned down a wide lane and were greeted with the most breathtaking site: a large white house, engulfed by a wide veranda, loomed imposingly in front of us. A sea of grasses and trees encroached on the borders of the house. It was three floors high; windows were scattered on each level.

The car stopped and Edward was at my door, opening it. He took my hand, and I tried not to shiver. I failed. I suddenly grasped a shocking revelation.

I no longer felt those ties of friendship, of brotherhood. That was through eighty-nine years ago. It was something more, something more intimate. I was deeply and desperately in love with Edward Mason.

When we walked in, another beautiful woman, obviously a vampire, greeted us warmly. She had the soft, glamorous look of a film star from the forties.

"Edward! Back so soon? And who is this lovely girl?" She looked at me intently, smelling the air. She smiled.

"Bella, this is Esme. Esme, this is Isabella Swan. We grew up together, in Chicago." He turned to me. "She's my mother." I nodded. Comprehension dawned on Esme's face. "It's wonderful to meet you, dear. The rest of the family should be home in an hour or two. I suppose you two have some catching up to do. I'll just…" she gestured to the kitchen. "I'll just leave you two at it, then." She smiled slyly. I followed Edward up the stairs and to his room.

I wasn't really that surprised by what I saw: cassettes and CDs covered half of a wall. The other half was covered by books. He had always been attracted by music; he was either playing his piano or in the opera hall or on the street corners, listening to emerging trombonists and the like. I browsed his music selection, stopping at a section which was obviously devoted to the twenties.

"Any Bessie?" I asked. He chuckled.

"Only the best. And Ma Rainey, of course."

"Of course. Those were the best years; the roaring twenties. The 'devil music'." I laughed, getting lost in the memories.

Rainey's crooning voice filled the room, comforting me instantly. We sat down on a dark, expensive looking sofa, me sinking into the cushions in all their plushy glory.

"I'm glad you didn't follow the trend and cut your hair off." Edward suddenly said.

"Mmm…" I nodded, sinking back into the couch, "me too." It was so relaxing, just sitting with Edward.

"What was your favorite decade?" I asked, suddenly wanting to know. He deliberated for a moment, his brow wrinkling in concentration.

"Well, I liked the twenties: the fashions, the music, the movies…all of it. But I also liked the sixties. Janis Joplin." He smiled. I did, as well.

"Were you at Woodstock?"

"Yep. I managed to convince Carlisle to come with me. He's my father." He was at Woodstock. Of course, I know that the chances of us having seen each other were unthinkably low, but, still, to have been so close…

I remembered his _real_ father. He was an honorable man, always very correct, very polite, very gentle. Very much like Edward, except more open. Edward hid his emotions; I could never tell what he was feeling.

_-wonder if she remembers when we went to the theatre and saw Paul Whiteman…_

"Of course I remember that, Edward! It was June, 1917, wasn't it?" Edward looked at me strangely, mixed emotions on his face.

"What?" It was my turn to look puzzled.

"You just asked if I remembered seeing Paul Whiteman, at Gerald's, right?"

"I _thought_ it, I didn't ask it." He spoke slowly.

"Damn," I cursed, "it's happening again. You don't happen to have a gift, do you?"

"If you must know, I can read thoughts." I blanched. What he must have heard. "Just not yours." Oh, thank God.

"Why," he said, "can you hear them too?"

"Well, my gift, is…well. I'm like a sponge. I can just sort of…soak up everyone else's abilities. Like yours. The only problem is that I can't control it. I'm still working on that."

"You can hear my thoughts?" He looked a tiny bit afraid.

"That was all I heard. I told you I can't control it." 

"Well," he started, "this will be interesting." -_need to guard what I'm thinking-_

I smiled. "No need to do that. I won't listen if I can help it." I was reveling in the beauty of this newly acquired gift. Perhaps, though, I'd hear too many things I didn't want to…No need to dwell on that, I chided myself.

"I wish I could go back," Edward said, "just once, for only a little bit."

"Yeah," I agreed. "I miss so many things. My family, probably most. You know, you should meet Eileen. Her gift…well. You'll have to meet her. I've never experienced it firsthand; I've never been brave enough, but-well. You'll just have to meet her."

"Eileen?" He questioned.

"The nurse that saved me." He snorted.

"Saved." Our conversation was interrupted by the harsh sound of gravel crunching under tires. "Carlisle. And the rest, too, I suppose." We headed down the stairs, meeting Esme at the door.

The family trooped in. Rosalie approached Edward. "Way to leave the car for us, Edward. Thanks."

"Anytime." He replied sarcastically. Carlisle walked towards me, extending his hand. "Carlisle Cullen. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Pleasure's all mine."

_Edward. Explain. How did this happen?_ Carlisle thought.

"Well," I took the liberty of responding, cutting Edward off, "we knew each other in Chicago, the turn of the century." Carlisle looked at Edward, asking the obvious question in his mind. "Perhaps we should go to my study." I ran up the stairs, having an odd feeling that something was about to change…


	5. We Suck Young Blood Your Time Is Up

**AN**: So, right now, I'm writing some filler stuff. This chapter should be the last one until I get to the _real_ plot. I personally hated writing this chapter. That's why it took me so long. I was incredibly bored. You probably will be too. yawn

Oh. By the way, I got a review about this, so I thought I might as well respond to it here as well. The influenza epidemic of 1918 was a different strain than what is normally seen. Therefore, the symptoms differ as well.

Crap. When I first posted this, the link wasn't working. Anyway, it pretty much describes the symptoms of the Spanish flu: blood sputum is coughed up and ends up filling the lungs. So, you're suffocated by blood.

**Chapter 5:**

Carlisle's study was beautiful. Paintings, books, and certificates scattered the walls and floors. He gestured towards a divan, and Edward and I sat. Carlisle steepled his fingers and gazed at the two of us.

"I presume you have a gift, considering the little display downstairs?" He asked.

"Yes." I explained the whole sponge thing again. Carlisle smiled.

"The sponge is a good analogy." He sat back again, deep in thought. I looked at Edward. He squeezed my hand. I don't know what was making me nervous.

"Do you live by yourself?" Carlisle suddenly asked.

"No. I live with Eileen. Eileen MacMorrough. She's the nurse that changed me. Strictly vegetarian, of course."

"Of course…I should very much like to meet her. It will be nice to have another family living so close to us." It would be very nice indeed. I smiled, thinking of this new family.

"Do you want me to call her? The library closes in a few minutes."

"Yes, that would be nice. There are certain…things we should go over. Come on; the rest of the family wants to talk to you, I'm sure." I would rather just talk to Edward. There was still a lot to be talked about. We headed downstairs once again, my mind being overwhelmed with the family's thoughts.

_Eins, zwei, drei, vier, funf, sechs_,- that was coming from Edward. I highly doubt that he was counting in German for the pure fun; he must be hiding his thoughts. Why, though?

The other thoughts were far too private to think about in any detail on my part. Edward looked at me and made a face.

"Did you hear that?" I smiled and nodded. "I wish I hadn't, though. Hold on, while I call Eileen." I pulled out my phone and dialed her number.

"Bella?" She asked.

"Eileen, hey. You'll never believe it, but we aren't the only vampires anymore. The Cullens are here now."

"The Cullens? I've heard of them. They're like us, aren't they?"

"Yeah. Listen, Carlisle and the rest of the family want to meet you. Can you come over after work? The house is on the extreme north edge of town, closest to the post office."

"I'll be there." She hung up.

I went back into the living room, past the grand staircase. Alice, Jasper, Rosalie, Edward, and a boy I didn't know were all sitting sprawled out across various pieces of furniture.

"I don't think you've been introduced to Emmett," Alice said. The unfamiliar boy stood up and shook my hand then sat down again next to Rosalie. We sat awkwardly in silence for a few minutes. Alice broke the quiet.

"So, you knew Edward before all of this happened?" She questioned.

"Yep. Our fathers were both in the same unit during the Spanish-American War. After the war, they, coincidentally, settled only a block away from each other in Chicago. Our families didn't really become reacquainted until 1903, when our mothers went to the same bookstore and were both eager to acquire a copy of _Enquire Within Upon Everything_. They were both maddeningly Victorian, you see. They got to talking and figured out that their husbands knew each other, and that they lived quite close together. Edward and I played together, and our families became quite close."

I know that my voice betrayed my sadness and longing. The truth: I was nostalgic for my old life. I _so_ wanted to go back, revisit the places, the people, just for a while. I wondered if Eileen…no. I shouldn't think on it. Let go of the past.

"It sounds like you two were close," Alice said, eyes twinkling. I looked at Edward, and he looked away. What an uncomfortable statement.

_You know, Edward, she's quite pretty. I wouldn't mind having another sister... _Alice thought.

"Alice, I think it only fair that I warn you that Bella can hear your thoughts as well," Edward stated, a little testily. The topic was quickly changed. Throughout the course of the conversation, I learned that Alice and Jasper were married, as well as Rosalie and Emmett. I also learned the dates of all of their transformations, along with what activities they enjoy.

There was a gentle tapping on the door.

"It must be Eileen."

Edward and I both sprang up and headed towards the door. Eileen stood on the front step, twirling her long hair absent-mindedly. When the door opened, Eileen quickly looked Edward up and down. She smirked at me, and then extended her hand to Edward.

"Eileen MacMorrough. Proud employee of the Forks Public Library," she smiled good-naturedly, as was her custom.

"Edward Cullen." Edward ushered her into the house, shutting the door behind her. "Carlisle and Esme are in the kitchen, I believe." He was wrong; they had come out upon hearing Eileen's approach to the house.

Delight lit up Eileen's face. "You must be the famous Carlisle Cullen. I've heard quite a bit about you from friends in Ireland. Dermot?" Carlisle laughed.

"I'd forgotten about him. Yes, he would have some interesting stories." The rest of the family filed in, and introductions were duly made. We managed to meander towards the living room once again, and all sat down.

"So, how do you like Forks so far?" Eileen asked.

"It's a nice city. Perfectly suited to our purposes. How long have you been here?" Carlisle questioned.

"We've been here a year," I answered for Eileen, "and it has been sunny three days total."

"Perfect." Conversation went on for hours; it was completely dark when Alice, Jasper, Rosalie, and Emmett made their way upstairs, thinking scandalous thoughts. Carlisle shook his head.

"You would think they could be a little more mature sometimes." Conversation gradually turned to gifts.

"Do you have any special talent, Eileen?" Esme asked. Eileen and I shared a glance. She grimaced.

"Yes. I-" I cut her off.

"She can manipulate the space-time continuum."

"You just love saying that, don't you?" Eileen asked.

"It's not everyday I get to say it. And, besides, it _is_ fun saying." Edward looked puzzled, thinking for a moment.

"So," he started, "you can go back and forward in time?"

"Yeah, pretty much. I've had some…bad experiences with it, though. When I was young, and first realized my power, I experimented too much. I got stuck in Mongolia in the midst of Genghis Khan's invasion." I tried to suppress a smile. The thought of Eileen standing in the middle of a battlefield in Mongolia amused me.

I could see a plot forming in Edward's mind. The same that I had been contemplating since I had met Eileen. We looked at each other, asking the same question silently.

"May I steal Bella for a while?" he asked. Eileen smirked again.

"Steal her for as long as you like." She and Esme winked at each other. I rolled my eyes. Edward caught my arm and led me up the stairs. As soon as we entered the room, he pulled me to the sofa. He lowered his voice to avoid being heard by the parental stand-ins down the stairs.

"Do you want to go back, too?" He asked.

"You have no idea how much I want to go back. I've thought about just taking myself back, reliving my whole life. Oh, Edward, do you think Eileen would let us go back? Just for a week, perhaps?"

"You know her better than I do. Don't you have the gift as well?" I nodded.

"I've only tried it once though, and I had Eileen with me to help me if I got stuck. I don't think I could do it by myself. Well. I could certainly try, but it might not end up so well. We could end up in the Mesozoic Era, or in a trench during the war, or at the guillotine, or," Edward cut me off.

"Would you really go back? If we could, would you do it? Come back…with me?" The thought brought joy to my heart. I struggled to hide my giddiness.

"I would go back right now." We sat in silence. That seemed to be happening a lot. The silence, that is.

"I can ask her, tonight. If she agrees, fine. If not, I'll take us." The thought rolled around in my head. My old life. Going back to Chicago, seeing my family, being with Edward…

We got up and headed back down the stairs again. Eileen looked up.

"I suppose a week would be fine. We heard you two." She added apologetically.

_Completely on accident_. Edward thought. I grinned at him.

"Completely." Edward looked at Carlisle, then at Eileen, and, finally, at Esme.

"Could we really go back? I mean. Now?" Eileen reached out and grabbed both of our hands, closing her eyes.

"Consider it done." The room spun, then, gradually, went black.


	6. City of Delusion

Damn these damn links not working. I hate this. I had a house picked out for Bella's family and one for Edward's family. I'll put them on my homepage. D

I wish _I_ could go back in time. sigh While I'm at it, I wish I owned Twilight, too.

**Chapter 6:**

I stretched my legs out lazily in the bed. Slowly, I opened my eyes. Soft sunlight filtered through the eyelets of the lace curtains. I watched the dust motes drift serenely through the air.

Suddenly, I sat up. I had been asleep. The sun was shining. I was in my old room. I looked around, tears welling to my eyes. Everything was just as I remembered it: the hardwood floor was monopolized by a large Persian rug; an ornate gilded mirror hung above the porcelain washbasin; the massive armoire loomed impressively next to another (larger) mirror and vanity table.

I got up and sank into the carpet. I ran my fingers over every surface of the room, letting them linger on book titles, on the gramophone, on the woodworking of the windowsills. Home. Finally, I was truly home.

I ran to the armoire, flinging it open. I pulled on my stockings, remembering to roll them down, then jumped into my shift, and, at last, my breezy black crêpe dress. I ran to the vanity and pulled my hair into a flat bun, covering it with a black cloche hat. Everything was just where I had remembered putting it. I unbuckled my galoshes, awaiting the 'flapping' sound that was sure to come.

I sprinted from my room, heading towards the stairs. I passed Georges on my way out. He was earnestly polishing the banister.

"I say, Georges, what day is today?" He looked up, eyes bright with age.

"Come now, Isabella. It's your birthday!"

"Oh," What planning by Eileen. "And what year is it?" Georges gave me a strange look this time.

"1917. Your mother would like to see you, in the drawing room; she told me she wants to discuss tonight's festivities with you."

"Right. Thanks." I sped off down the stairs. At least I wouldn't have to worry about contracting the flu during my precious week here.

I ran into the drawing room and to my mother, wrapping her up in my arms. She hugged me tentatively back. 

"Good morning to you, too, Isabella," she said feebly. "Why this sudden display of affection?" I shrugged.

"Just because."

"Now, tonight, dear, the guests will start arriving at seven. Or thereabouts, knowing your friends." She pursed her lips. "I want you to wear your blue taffeta evening gown. And wear the black pumps, as well. I'm so glad Elsa spotted those."

I groaned inwardly. I loathed the blue taffeta evening gown. I hugged her once more.

"I'm going to get Edward and we'll head to a show and grab lunch." My mother pursed her lips again. "In that? Aren't you missing a few layers of clothes?"

"Oh, _Lord_, Mother, must you always be so _Victorian_?"

"It's called self preservation, dear. I won't even tell you what your grandmother would think of you if she were still here. And shouldn't Edward be coming to get you? He's such a sweet boy, though. I should hope his mother doesn't approve of _females_ picking her _son_ up."

"Well," I began, "he doesn't really know that I'm coming. But, I'm leaving now, an-'' I was cut off my a sharp ring on the buzzer.

"Let Stuart get it." I tapped my foot impatiently, waiting for Stuart. I could hear the steady thrumming and tapping of his feet on the hardwood floors. "A Mr. Edward Masen, ma'am." My mother looked at me.

"Yes. Well. You may send him in, I suppose." Stuart withdrew. I moved forward. Mother put up her hand. "Wait for him to come here." After what seemed like an eternity (trust me; I should know) Stuart and my angel appeared. He went to my mother, taking her hand. "Good morning, Mrs. Swan."

"Good morning, Edward, dear. I hope your mother is well?" my mother drawled, putting on her best motherly voice.

"She is very well, thank you for asking. I was wondering, Mrs. Swan, if I might be allowed to take Isabella to lunch today? I will, of course, have her back well before the party." His words flowed smoothly. Even as a human he could dazzle people.

"Oh," my mother fawned, "of course. I hope we shall see you again this evening?"

"Of course," Edward nodded. "I wouldn't miss it for all of Chicago." My mother beamed as we left the room.

"Excellent." We headed out the door and to Edward's waiting car. He'd always had a penchant for fast things, though this hardly compared to any car of the future. Bliss. Pure bliss.

**AN**: So, that was sort of an awkward place to end it. It just sort of…stops. But I really wanted to post this, and I'm completely drained (school's finally over). I'm eagerly anticipating the next chapter. Oh, and I have lots of different plots for this. I just have to decide which one to use. Or, I could use all of them and have this be an uber long story. Or, I could stop rambling right now. Hope you enjoyed.

hoe


	7. Space Dementia

**AN**: Haha. I don't know why the very last word of Chapter 5 is 'hoe'. I seriously don't know how that got there. Anyway, I've been really busy lately. And, I should be taking a shower right now, but I wanted to post this. I am sacrificing personal hygiene for your benefit. Consider yourself lucky.

Oh. Yeah. I love reviews and reviewers alike. However, I may not be able to respond to them all. Maybe (nudgenudge) if you review a bunch of times, I'll remember your penname and go review you too. I totally wasn't just bribing you there. Nope. Not me. Now, I'm really going to stop talking and rambling. If you made it this far into the author's note, I congratulate you.

**Disclaimer**: There are many things in this world that I own. Unfortunately, Edward does not happen to be one of them.

The car was taken away by the valet, and Edward and I moseyed along down the street. I passed all of the familiar sights and landmarks. Women rushed about importantly, nurses stood on corners petitioning for help with the war effort. Propaganda posters lined the sides of buildings. "Eat More Cottage Cheese! Food Is Ammunition!" one screamed. I clutched my belly, feeling guilty for being hungry. "Care for Her Through the YWCA!" another shouted. "Waste Not, Want Not!" After that bulletin I averted my eyes.

Edward grabbed my arm, looking up at a building. "_Lenore's_," he said. "It looks fine. Actually, after 80 years, anything looks fine." He ushered me into the building. I knew what to expect: fish. Beans. Cottage Cheese. No meat, no wheat, no sugar; that was all saved for the troops overseas.

We were one of the many couples in the dimly lit restaurant. The tables and chairs were formed in a circle around a polished floor for dancing, and a band played music in the corner. An oily looking waiter approached us.

"Your name, please?" He drawled, his small, pathetic mustache quivering above his lip.

"Cullen." Edward spoke authoritatively. I looked him over. I could never really remember details about his appearance as a human, but now my memory was refreshed. His skin was no longer deathly pale. No pun intended. Granted, it was still pale, just not vampire-like anymore. His eyes were green now, and shone with all the warmth they could possibly muster. Trust me, they still smoldered.

We were led to a linen covered table in a far corner, farthest from the band. After food was ordered, conversation commenced.

"Bella," Edward started, hesitantly, "are we _supposed_ to be human?" I had been thinking of this myself.

"I must confess, it's quite a perplexing question. When I traveled with Eileen, I was still dead. But…" I thought for a moment, sipping my sherry. "…I was actually the one in control of the travel. So, maybe, if I had taken us back…well, at any rate, I'd have stayed a vampire, but I don't know about you. Actually. I don't know anything."

He was sitting back in his chair, swirling his whiskey and soda, thoughtfully mulling over his glass. "Well, as long as Eileen gets us back, I suppose it doesn't matter much. We should enjoy our time here."

I couldn't agree more. Food. That's all I was thinking about. Food, glorious food. Speak of the devil, they say, and he shall come. The devil, in this case, was a large portion of asiago soufflé, lemon basted fish, and New England clam chowder. The dishes were set down, and Edward and I looked at each other simultaneously.

Our expressions conveyed many of the same emotions: anticipation, longing, excitement, and a true, deep, unfathomable _hunger_. This was a different kind of hunger. It wasn't a dull ache in the back of my throat, it wasn't venom coating my mouth…it was an empty, grumbling feeling in my stomach. I grabbed my stomach again.

"Edward. My stomach…it hurts. It feels…so…so empty." He just smiled.

"I think it is only safe to assume that, after 80 years of not having consumed any food, your stomach would be just a tad vacant." I could think of no witty retort at the moment; I was rather preoccupied with all of the wonderful dishes in front of me. Reflecting on the meal, I find it amazing that I remembered to use my utensils correctly.

Three courses later (entrée, salad, and dessert) I was finally content. I sat back, sighing in satisfaction. Edward mimicked me. We studied each others faces for a while. For too long, actually; I was beginning to feel like I was under a microscope. I cleared my throat and shifted positions in the chair.

"You know, I can't remember tonight at all. I know I should, but, really, nothing sticks in my mind. Except the champagne. I'm thoroughly convinced that it was tonight I went a bit overboard there." Edward smiled, appearing nostalgic and far away.

"I remember it. You wore a blue taffeta evening gown…I remember that you hated it. You had on black pumps and black gloves. I think they were taffeta too. We danced to "A Pretty Girl Is Like a Melody"." He laughed, suddenly. "I remember that your mother would only let you dance once with me. She made you dance with that horrid Alfred Chenridge." He looked sad and…heartbroken, almost. I thought I saw a blush appear on his cheeks, faint, but there. He cleared his throat, awkwardly.

"I-I'm sorry. For keeping you so long. Your mother will be wondering where we've been. Come." He extended his arm and I gladly took it, wondering all the way out to the car whether he cared for me in any way remotely similar to the way I did for him.

It was about four when we returned to my house; I was shocked that we had talked…er…eaten for so long. Edward jumped out of the car and ran to my door, opening it and ushering me out of the car. He walked me to the front door. He stepped forward, then back, awkwardly, uncomfortably.

"I will…see you tonight, then."

"Yes," I looked him in the eyes, his beautiful green eyes, "at seven." He grinned lopsidedly and ambled back to the car. I walked noisily across the black and white tiled floor and past my mother's favorite fern.

"Isabella?" I heard an unmistakably male voice question. I grinned despite myself, and ran to my father's office.

"Father! It's so good to see you! Any interesting cases today?" He chuckled; he always chuckled when I was around.

"None today, Isabella. I heard you were out with Edward again." He looked at me, his stare penetrating my very soul. He was much more perceptive than I gave him credit for. I blushed. That was definitely something I didn't miss.

"Yes." I couldn't think of anything else to say.

"Well. He's a good boy. His father is a good man." I blanched. I certainly didn't remember this conversation from my human life. I coughed nervously.

"I need to go get ready." I hastily removed myself from the study. The last thing I heard while ascending the stairs was my father's low laugh. I grimaced. What an awkward first day back.


	8. Black Holes and Revelations

AN: The cottage cheese propaganda slogan was actually a real poster.

I made my way slowly up the stairs, slipping out of my galoshes when I reached the top. Lunch had been…interesting. I tried to remember what Edward wore the last time I saw him, in 1918. I couldn't. So, why, then, could he remember what _I_ wore? Did I look good? Was it horrendous? Did something important happen? I hardly dared to speculate on this, but, did he actually…like me?

I sighed and collapsed on my bed. There was no point in obsessing over this. I knew one thing for certain, though: I was NOT dancing any more than one dance with Alfred Chenridge. So help me God.

My mother knocked on the door to my room. Not waiting for a response, she walked in. "You need to bathe. I'll have Eleanor fill the tub for you." With that she left, never giving me a chance to tell her I was clean.

We only had five servants: Georges; his son Albert, our chauffeur; Eleanor, our elderly maid; Maisie, our cook; and Andrew, a man who had been injured during the first year of the war. All of our servants were old, crippled, or unable to fight. On weekday nights, Maisie, mother, and I would go to the Red Cross and make bandages and blankets for our troops. During the summer of 1918, I volunteered at a munitions factory and in the hospitals, tendering care towards those stricken by the influenza.

I sighed, once again, and walked to the bathroom. Eleanor had come in and filled the claw footed tub with boiling water. I jumped in, forgetting that I was no longer immune to sensations, and yelped. Heat was such an alien feeling. I passed on washing my hair, knowing that it would take too long to dry. I washed with lavender oil and dried myself off.

It was strange to think that so simple an action could impact me so greatly. Before I knew it, I was on the floor, crying. My head was buried in my arms. I didn't know why I was crying, exactly, I just was. The sun burned high in the sky, and I sat, naked, on the floor, bawling my eyes out.

-------

"Alfred!" I plastered a fake smile to my face and went forward, cringing as I hugged this pathetic excuse for a human. Thanks were made, various comments on the pleasing atmosphere of the room were made, and I slipped my way out of his presence.

I searched the room for Edward. I knew he wasn't here yet; he would have come and said hello with his parents if he was. I grabbed a glass of champagne from Andrew, who was passing with the tray of drinks, and chugged it, grimacing as the bubbles burned my throat.

"Take it easy, now." I heard his beautiful voice, and turned abruptly.

"Edward!" I looked behind him, seeing his parents. "Mr. and Mrs. Masen! How wonderful to see you again!" I was sincere, too. Their familiar faces were a welcome sight. My mother seemed to have smelled out Mrs. Masen, and she hurriedly made her way over, dragging my father by the arm as well. Mr. Masen and my father quickly made their escape to the parlor. My mother, however, insisted that Edward, his mother, and I remain.

"So, Isabella, when will your debutante ball be?" Asked Mrs. Masen. I looked at my mother, waiting for her to answer the question.

"We're planning on next June, though we'll wait for the war to be over if it isn't over by then. God willing, it will be done soon." I felt Edward stiffen next to me. My mother and Edward's mother gradually drifted away, arm in arm, mulling over the neighborhood gossip.

We slowly drifted towards the dance floor, where a slower beat was being played. Edward's arms slid to my waist, while I grasped his shoulders firmly.

"Isabella," He started.

"No." I already knew what he was going to ask. "We only have a week, Edward." His face lit up.

"But are you sure? We could be stuck here, for the rest of our life. You know it's different this time. What if we can't get back? Already, so much has changed. What if, everything we do now affects our later life? If we go away, say, to Georgia, or somewhere, and don't get influenza, then we won't be changed, and we'll be human, and die! It would be simply marvelous, don't you think?"

I, quite personally, was quite confused about the whole time travel thing. If, in a week, we weren't back in the twenty-first century, I'd know that Edward was right. We would be stuck. It wouldn't be too bad actually, come to think of it. We could marry, get jobs, have children, lay in the sun in public, eat food…

"I'm joining," he said quietly, "if we're still here next week."

I sighed in resignation.

"If we're here."

He smiled. "I have a feeling I won't be disappointed." I groaned, but we continued…dancing the night away. And I did not dance one single dance with Alfred.


	9. Tomorrow Comes A Day Too Soon

**AN**: For the purpose of my story, please, please, do not try and match the events to the dates. I realized that I sort of…screwed up. You'll see why. Huge ass author's note at end.

I yawned and rolled over in my bed. It had been a week and a half, and I had resigned myself to the fact that, for some reason or another, both Edward and I would be here for at least a while longer.

I stretched lazily, dragging myself out of the cocoon of blankets I called home right now. Bleary eyed, I pulled on my dressing gown and stumbled down the stairs.

The oak paneled door to the breakfast room was halfway open, inviting me to come in. I shuffled in, not even bothering to greet my family.

"Well, look who decided to show her face today! We were just going to send someone to check on you and make sure you were still breathing." Said my father, ever the clever one.

I grunted. "Don't talk to her dear; can't you see she's in a huff?"

"Rough night of dancing?"

"Brutal."

They both smiled indulgently. "They've rationed the eggs again. There's toast, though. No preserves left…But Mrs. Malhoney brought milk from her donkey for us."

I grimaced. Ass's milk. There was always hair in the milk, and it was warm and sour tasting. Sick. I noticed the paper lying across the table.

"Father, can I see that?" 

He passed the paper across. "Only the usual in it today, I'm afraid."

The headline read "British Assault on Polygon Forest". There were various other articles meant to boost morale. I skimmed through the article. It was much the same as any other war article. I turned the page. Nothing of interest. I was preparing to turn it again, when a small article caught my eye.

"Record amount of deaths from influenza," I breathed. 

My mother pursed her lips. "No doubt the immigrants bringing in all of their diseases with them. It will pass, no worries."

Living through it once had been hard enough. I don't think I could bear to live through it a second time.

"Do you think we could…go away?"

Both of my parents looked up from their deeply engrossing breakfast.

"Go away?" Echoed my father, incredulous. "Whatever for?"

"Er-you've been working quite hard? Can't we visit someone in…the South? In the country?"

"I can't just up and leave my work, Isabella. I have made a commitment, and it is far more important than any holiday. You would do well to learn from my example. When you tell someone that-"

I stopped listening. I bit into my toast, tasting nothing. I had to convince my parents to head somewhere that was unaffected by the disease. That was the problem, though. Somewhere unaffected…was there such a place? Antarctica, perhaps, I thought bitterly.

My mother cut across my father.

"Go change, dear, we need to start out for the hospital. Wear those nice sensible boots you have."

"But of course." I muttered, heading up the stairs.

I needed to talk to Edward. We both needed to save our families. As the seconds ticked by, this plan of ours was becoming more and more painful.

I vaguely noticed the 'phone ring while I was changing.

I tripped down the stairs in my 'sensible' brown boots, greeted my mother at the door, and together we headed down the street towards the hospital.

It had been a long time since I'd been in a hospital.

As soon as we stepped in, the unmistakable stench of death stole over us. The wails and moans of wounded soldiers filled the halls, and a general air of despair was present throughout the whole building.

We walked through the main ward where soldiers were treated. It was nothing but a long hall, windowless, sunless, cheerless. There were cots lining the walls, only feet apart. Harried looking nurses bustled back and forth, the red cross on their uniform hat giving away their position. Men hobbled across the flagstone floor, many missing a limb or two. But a majority of the men lay on cots, heads bandaged, legs propped on pillows, faggots dangling out of a side of their mouth. They had dull, lifeless eyes that seemed to be only aware of what was going on around them.

"Isabella," my mother hissed, "come _on_."

We trooped to a higher floor, where young women were gathered around a table. My mother was shooed off to make bandages, while I was handed needles, yarn, and a well worn piece of paper, reading:

Cast on 80 stitches, 26 on 1 needles and 27 on each of 2 needles.

Knit in ribs of knit (k) 2 and purl (p) 2 for 4 inches.

Knit plain, making 1 stitch the seam stitch until the sock measures 6 inches, including the ribbed part.

Now narrow on each side of the seam stitch for the ankle as follows: Knit to within the last 3 stitches of the seam; slip (sl) 1, k 1, pass the slipped stitch over the knitted one, k 1, p the same stitch, k 1, narrow, k the rest plain. Knit 7 rounds plain.

Repeat this narrowing every 8th row until there are 70 stitches in the round.

Knit plain until the leg measures 9 1/2 inches.

I looked at it blankly. It had been quite a long time since I had knit. I sighed, heading over to stand by a poster proclaiming: "American Red Cross. Our boys need SOX; knit your bit".

Five hours, two pairs of socks, one vest, one hat, one half pair of gloves later, and we left. As soon as my mother and I made it out of the doors, I felt as if an invisible weight had been lifted off my shoulders.

We walked back, leisurely this time, taking in the sights.

"I can't wait until this damned war is over!" My mother shouted vehemently. I started back, surprised by her outburst.

"November 11," I whispered. She didn't hear.

"It's a bloody waste! So many dead already, so many more still will die! All of those men in there, Isabella, they all had a mother, a father, sister, brother, sweetheart, friends. How could anyone kill another human so mindlessly? I only hope-" she sobbed, "I only hope that Edward will come back safe."

I stopped dead in my tracks.

"What?" I asked blankly. "Edward who?"

She sobbed again, shoulders heaving. A crowd was starting to gather on the street around us.

"His mother called this morning, in tears. He joined yesterday. In a week he leaves for basic training. And then-and then he'll go. Oh, Bella, I'm so sorry! I should have told you, she rang just before we left. I thought he must have told you."

I stood in shock. "No," I said, "No, he failed to mention it to me."

She took in a shuddering breath, dabbing at her eyes and cheeks with a square of linen.

"Come, dear, we can pray for him. Make him some socks, while we're at it. You wouldn't want him to contract trench foot, now, would you?"

Numbly, I allowed her to shepherd me home, through the crowds.

When we got home, she sat me down in an armchair, gave me needles and yarn, and left to make tea. I sat, lacking the energy to do anything.

I'm going to kill him, I thought.

I jumped up and ran to the kitchen.

"I'm going for a walk. I'll be back soon, don't worry." I left before she could ask where or why I was leaving.

The door slammed behind me. I walked quickly, boots clicking. It was only a few blocks to the Masen's house. I managed it in only a minute.

I rapped on the door, clicking my foot impatiently while waiting for a response. The door opened and the tufty-haired butler answered.

"May I help you, Madam?"

"I need to see Edward."

"Who should I say is calling?"

"For Christ's sake, Wodehouse, you know who I am!"

"Yes, Madam." He backed into the hall, ushering me into the foyer. As I stepped in, I saw Edward skipping down the stairs.

He looked at me, and seemed to deflate. He nodded to Wodehouse, and led me to the library, locking the door behind us.

"Listen, Bella," he started.

"No! Edward! I can't believe you! How could you?" He stepped back, taking in my appearance. I was well aware that I probably seemed less than sane; my hair had fallen out of its bun, my cheeks were flushed, my boots muddy, and I was still in the over large peacoat I had procured from the Navy warehouse.

I ignored his expression and went on.

"You can't do this to your family! What if they get sick while you're away? What if you die? You're their only child, you can't do it, you can't do it to me!"

I sobbed disjointedly, flailing my fists at his chest. He stepped forward, grabbing both of my wrists with his hands.

"Listen, Bella, my father is sick, they took him to the hospital a few hours ago."

"You-…what? With the flu?"

We locked eyes. I had never before noticed the haunted look his eyes had.

He nodded, slowly, once.

Oh, Lord. It was as if everything inside of me collapsed. All burgeoning hope deflated; my world was crashing down about me. I collapsed into the chair.

"You need to leave," he whispered, "my mother and I will probably show the symptoms soon. I shouldn't have let you in…I'm so sorry, Bella."

This couldn't be happening.

"I refuse to accept this." A tear leaked down my cheek.

"Go," he whispered, "please."

I stood and headed towards the door. I looked back at him, my hand on the doorknob. He kneeled on the ground, his head in his hands.

"I'm not going to sit back and watch you die."

"Is that so?" He smiled bitterly.

"It's a fact." I closed the door, and, crying silently, walked to the front door and let myself out.

It had started to rain while I was inside. The people on the street ran to take shelter in the buildings, but I walked calmly home, jacket drawn around my neck. There was really only one thing to do.

I needed to find Carlisle.

**AN**: So sorry it took so long. You don't want my excuses, but here they are: I was gone in New Jersey and Delaware. I had soccer camp every day. Et cetera. But, now I'm back, so it should all be good. ANYWAY.

While I was gone, I visited my great-aunt. She was born in 1909. Yes. She was 9 during the Spanish Flu. And, I didn't even ask her about it, but she told me! I was sooo excited. She said that every family…EVERY family lost at least one member. Hers lost two or three, I think. She also said that no one called it the 'Spanish' flu then, because no one knew what it was. It's fascinating to talk to her. She said that all of the soldiers were pretty much stuck in Europe after the war, because they all had the flu and couldn't come back. She said tons more, but not about the flu. Anyway. I hope you enjoyed the chapter!


	10. Chapter 10

Hey, guys! I know, I know, its been forevvver. But…I came to tell you that this story has been replaced with "Die Another Day". Its fundamentally the same plot, except a little more organized. So, with that being said, you should go check it out! Whoo!


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